


A House is Not a Home

by Krethes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco/Harry is background, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sirius is Dead, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krethes/pseuds/Krethes
Summary: "Now and then I call your name and suddenly your face appears, but it's just a crazy game. When it ends, it ends in tears..."It's been almost a month since Remus got the worst news of his life. Sirius was dead. He returns to their old home to try to restart his life after his loss, but there are more memories tucked in the old house than he bargained for.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	A House is Not a Home

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Brief reference to the possibility of suicidal thoughts near the end. Not graphic, not fulfilled.
> 
> This is a songfic inspired by "A House is Not a Home" by Luther Vandross.

The house was still as he remembered it. The paint on the outside was chipped, peeling, and faded from a barrage of salty air over the course of half a century, but it was still blue. The porch still wrapped around and though it was covered in sand and debris and some windows were broken from a storm that went through, the house remained standing and looked as solid as ever. The protection charms Sirius put up when they first bought the house were the best and, apparently, still working.

  
  


Remus remembered watching Sirius cast the enchantments, his handsome, pale face set in a rare focused frown. He had been so diligent with each element of the protection charm, determined not to miss a single nook or cranny. Remus had never been very good at protection charms, which was unfortunate, given he needed them the most often. Sirius had insisted it was “no trouble”, and that he was happy to add them to the list of “things he was The Best At”, a list that was “far too lengthy to write down, Moony, don’t be daft!”

  
  


In another timeline, another era, the thoroughness of their preparations could be called overkill, but the circumstances that prompted the purchase of the house certainly warranted their concern. The world was not safe for them or for the new addition to their family. The charms had worked. No one who didn’t hear first-hand from them where the house was could find it.

  
  


Amber eyes lit upon the pathetic remains of a garden left to grow wild and a weary grin tugged at his chapped, scarred lips. The weeds had overtaken what used to be a very proper vegetable garden, a garden that he used to grow carrots and peas in and made Sirius eat even when the other man protested that he didn't “eat rabbit food -- he was a dog, not a deer". After a few minutes of dancing around the same topic, Remus finally managed to convince the stubborn man that it was for the best and, in a lower, huskier voice, if he ate all of his vegetables he would  _ thoroughly _ enjoy his dessert.

  
  


As the waves lapped at the beach surrounding the house, a wave of sorrow crashed over him and he nearly doubled over at the pain flowering in his chest.

  
  


"Remus, are you okay? Should we leave?" It was a relatively young voice that spoke to him; a voice filled with strength and concern; the concern was mirrored in the bracing hand that encircled his bony elbow to keep him from falling face-first on the beach.

  
  


Remus turned his head and looked at the messy-haired man who looked so much like his dear friend, long gone, and shook his head. "I am alright, Harry, thank you. I just…" he paused, swallowing past the thick knot in his throat. "Lots of memories, that's all. You understand," Remus continued with a wan grin. He straightened, took a bracing breath of cleansing ocean air, patted Harry's forearm, and walked up the creaking wooden porch steps.

  
  


“I know,” Harry murmured, unable to ignore the heavy knot sitting in his sternum. This house had been his home for ten years, it was hard to come back to it and not see his godfather on the porch steps waiting for him with a new gadget to show him. 

  
  


Harry did not look entirely convinced that Remus was okay, but he knew enough about his foster father to understand that arguing with him in the emotional state he was in was  _ not  _ wise... Even at fifty, the werewolf still had a great deal of kick in him. And, while Remus was normally one of the most level-headed people he knew, he wasn't fully aware of himself right now and anything could happen. Grief was like that.

  
  


Remus felt like he was in a dream, transported back thirty-two years to when the house was first bought. He placed a scarred hand on the weathered yellow door and took a moment to collect himself before murmuring the incantation that would unlock the spells keeping it shut. The door glowed blue for a second and was followed by a series of clicks. Finally, Remus wrapped his arthritic fingers around the knob and turned it.

  
  


The first thing he noticed about the living room was that it  _ still _ smelled like him. It still had the lingering scent of Sirius, noticeable only to his keen werewolf nose. A few coarse black hairs were embedded in the couch they spent many an evening curled up on watching Muggle television or just reading in front of the fireplace. The bookshelf was bare from the move and covered in sand and seaweed, but Remus could still picture it filled to very brim with reference books and classic English literature, the latter of which he had tried so hard to get Sirius to appreciate.

  
  


Still more of Padfoot's fur (the dog shed like he was getting paid) was in a line of dust against a bottom cupboard, probably swept there by a stiff breeze that entered through the broken window facing the ocean. Remus remembered sitting on the rug with a curry comb spending what felt like  _ hours _ getting brambles and seaweed from the big black dog's glossy fur after their Sunday afternoon excursions to the beach.

  
  


Harry, sensing another seam about to burst on the older man's mind, put a warm hand on Remus's thin shoulder and pulled him gently against his chest for a hug. He felt Remus's body tense up and then break down as his walls crumbled and tears flowed, staining Harry's white shirt with the salty drops. Harry let him cry, knowing that he certainly did a great deal of crying of his own when he got the news and still did in bare moments, tucked against Draco’s chest. He ran his hands up and down Remus's back in an attempt to comfort the man who helped raise him.

  
  


After several minutes passed, Remus finally lifted his head and dried his tears on his own shirtsleeve. "I am terribly sorry, Harry. I must look a mess. The…the full moon is close and I just get really emotional when…when it does." 

  
  


_ 'Yeah, more like I know that for the first time in almost forty years I'll transform alone and that I'm scared shitless,' _ Remus corrected himself in his mind. He was truthfully terrified; he did not know how to be alone and certainly did not trust the wolf to behave itself. In fact, he was positive that something terrible would happen when it realized that Padfoot was not there to run beside it. Remus was already preparing his supplies of healing potions and salves for the torment that would be wreaked upon him.

  
  


"Remus, it's okay, really," Harry said and managed to catch the other man's gaze, striking green locking with wolfish amber. "We don't have to do this today, you know. You can still live with me and Draco until you get—"

  
  


"What? Back on my feet?" Remus interrupted, sharper than he’d intended. "I'm never going to get back on my feet or even my  _ knees _ to so much as crawl if I don't start accepting reality. Even if reality is not what I want to see," he continued, this time in a gentler tone. "You and Draco have been gracious hosts and very kind for letting me stay with you, but it's time for me to move on, Harry. This is the only place that is  _ mine _ and I'll make it my home again."

  
  


Ever since Kingsley Shacklebolt came to the door of 12 Grimmauld Place four weeks ago to tell him that Sirius had been killed during a mission, Remus had been staying (he couldn’t call it “living”) with Harry and his partner Draco in their London flat. He acted mostly as a recluse, only coming out of the guest room for meals when Draco put his foot down. He knew they were worried about his health (he'd lost a great deal of weight since Sirius died, weight he really didn’t have to lose to begin with) and his sanity, but could not bring himself to fake a happy face. It was best if he got away from them so he didn't have to try anymore.

  
  


"But Remus, you—" Harry tried again, worry sprawled across his strong-boned face.

  
  


"But  _ nothing _ , Harry. It's past time for me to move out and start my life again." Remus wished he was as convinced as his words made him sound. In truth, Remus didn't know what he would do without his best friend and husband. He had never lived alone before.

  
  


Straight out of Hogwarts, Sirius insisted that Remus get a flat with him in London, so he did. They lived as fashionable young men did in the late 70s, early 80s, going clubbing and dancing and drinking almost every night and shagging like bunnies when they returned home. It was a wonderful life, Remus’s memories largely of tangled hair and limbs and cigarette smoke. 

  
  


When James and Lily were murdered, Remus proved Sirius's innocence with an alibi (however incriminating sexually) and revealed Peter’s treachery. Lily and Remus's friendship went back to their first year at school and continued to grow when they were Prefects together and then beyond Hogwarts. As such, Lily told Remus that they changed their secret-keeper. Losing Lily had been equally as hard on Remus as losing James had been, but with their friends' deaths, Harry came into their lives.

  
  


Many people in the Ministry had something nasty to say about Harry being raised by two gay men, especially when one of them was a werewolf. Werewolf custody laws were tricky and very hard to read with all of the blurred lines and everyone's opinion but they fought hard for him and, with Dumbledore's very good help and influence, secured custody.

  
  


A one-bedroom apartment in the heart of London was no place to raise a baby though, so Remus and Sirius went looking for a proper house. It was Sirius who found the blue cottage on the ocean that Remus currently stood in. Sirius remembered all of Remus's stories of growing up in Dover and knew he felt most at home by the sea. They bought the house and raised Harry as best as they knew how.

  
  


Those years were some of the best, Remus felt. They taught Harry how to walk and talk and never failed to supplement bedtime stories with tales of their pranks as Marauders and with stories of how often Lily shot down James's attempts at getting with her, a particular favorite of Sirius's to tell. They raised Harry to be a confident and tolerant young man and it was certainly no surprise to them when he was Sorted into Gryffindor. They could not have been more proud.

  
  


His life with Sirius had been especially meaningful while Harry was off at school. They finally had their lives to themselves again after so many years and got to know each other all over again. Remus picked up a part-time job in a Muggle bookstore in town to keep busy and Sirius continued to Apparate to work as an Auror. When Sirius would return home, Remus would always be there with a warm body, delicious food, and beer.

  
  


Life was as wonderful as it could possibly be with all that was happening.

  
  


When Harry graduated and moved to London, Sirius wanted to be closer to his godson just in case something happened, especially when Harry started seeing 'that Malfoy brat', as Sirius so eloquently referred to Draco (that or “Lucy’s spawn”, in reference to their nickname for Lucius), clearly trusting no one within three generations of his family line. They moved into 12 Grimmauld Place and Remus kept busy by cleaning it up for proper habitation and convincing the portraits that he was Sirius’s  _ husband _ , not  _ friend  _ or _servant_ .

  
  


Remus was  _ so _ sure that he was going to live out his final days there. Well, there or in the Lycanthropy Ward at St. Mungo's. He was  _ positive _ that he would be the first to go, the one to leave Sirius all alone as the last of the Marauders. Before James died, Remus had thought that he would be the first of the four to hop on over to the great beyond given his lycanthropy and the knowledge that most werewolves did not see forty, let alone fifty.

  
  


But no, that wasn't the case. Remus was the last one, the last of a dying breed of young men who indulged in glam rock, hair bands, and the finest pranks Hogwarts had ever seen. Remus  _ knew _ he wasn't completely alone in the world; he had friends, of course. Harry and Draco, Kingsley, even Severus who had softened over the years, but life was not going to be the same. He had been with Sirius for thirty-five years and without him now, he felt empty.

  
  


"Uh…Remus? Come on, let's go back. We'll do this another day," Harry tried again after seeing the man stand in one place staring off into the distance for several seconds.

  
  


Remus shook his head and gave the younger man a stern look. "No. Absolutely not. I can be just as stubborn as you, Harry. I was in Gryffindor, too, you know, and I am doing this. Now come on," he urged and plowed further into the house with renewed conviction.

  
  


He revisited every room but did not feel the same feeling of dread as he did when he approached the door to the master bedroom. Remus stood there staring at the doorknob for a good three minutes before he finally plucked up the courage to open it. A whirlwind of smells and, subsequently, memories hit him and Remus couldn't help but whisper, "Sirius." In his daze, Remus could have (and would have) sworn he saw a shaggy black dog slip into the closet with a wagging tail and mischievous gray eyes.

  
  


His hopes rose against reason and he chased the phantom with bated breath, but came up short in an empty closet. He raked a hand through his hair in agony, mostly silver now with only a few brave strands of tawny shot through the scraggly mess, and looked around wildly. The only things there were some mothballs, dust bunnies, and sand. This realization crushed Remus more than he cared to admit. He had seen Sirius's body with his own eyes, knew that the Avada Kedavra curse had been cast, had been at his funeral. His heart just wasn't ready to let him go and probably never would be, he reasoned with himself.

  
  


Sirius was his first and only love and the first person to ever give him proper friendship. He led James and Peter (how his hackles still rose at even the memory of that name) into becoming animagi for his sake and continued, month after month, to accompany him into the forest for his transformations. Even after the Wolfsbane potion was invented, Padfoot kept him company in the woods and they ran as wolf and dog until the sun came up.

  
  


A glimpse of something red caught his eye and he walked further into the closet. In a corner was a red dog collar with gold tags. Remus picked it up and fell to his knees with a dry sob. He pressed the old thing to his nose and inhaled deeply, able to pick up strong traces of Padfoot's scent in the nylon with his keen sense of smell. It was crippling.

  
  


Harry found Remus clutching the collar to his chest looking like a man without purpose. He cautiously walked over to where Remus was huddled, not wanting to startle the older man into doing something rash. He knelt down beside him and put his arm around his shoulders.

  
  


"Remus, let's go  _ home _ . I know you think you are, but you aren't ready for this. You have nothing to be ashamed of, you've just lost the most important person in your life. It is okay to not be okay," he pleaded with him, voice cracking a little. Harry didn't know what Remus would do if he left him there on his own. There were plenty of ways for a wizard to commit suicide and while Remus would not have been the type to even consider it a few months ago, Harry wasn't so sure now. Sirius seemed to be the glue that kept him together.

  
  


Remus was silent for a long time before he tucked the collar into his pocket. He nodded dumbly to Harry's previous statement and stood up to his feet, using Harry as a crutch. "You're right. This house is not a home, not without Sirius. I'm—"

  
  


"There's nothing to apologize for, Remus," Harry cut him off softly. He drew the frail-looking man into a hug, doing his best not to cry, to be strong for him like Remus had been strong when telling Harry about his parents, had been strong his whole life for him.

  
  


The two of them left the room, the house, and the county of Kent for the bustling city of London and unpacked Remus's things with the help of a quiet but comforting Draco.

  
  


Later that night, Remus pulled out the old collar and ran his fingers across the engraved letters: 'For my dearest Padfoot, may you always find your way back home'. He rolled over onto his side and placed the collar reverently on his pillow—a pillow that had once been Sirius's. He wore one of Sirius's old shirts and his sweatpants though they were both too large and too short on his long and lanky frame, was wrapped in Sirius's favorite blanket, and there was a photo on the nightstand of the two of them at their marriage ceremony, looking like two men who thought nothing bad could ever happen to them, that they were invincible.

  
  


If only that principle still applied, he would still have his husband and wouldn't need all of those things to feel close to him again. "It's all just a crazy game, a dream," Remus whispered to himself resolutely. "I will go back to Grimmauld Place in the morning and when I climb the stairs, he'll still be there, wondering where I've been. And he'll scold me because he was worried sick about me but then he'll hold me and tell me that I've been so silly for thinking that he'd ever leave me all alone. He promised he’d never leave, after all." Those pleasant little lies helped Remus drift to sleep where he dreamed of the past, of spending evenings in the Gryffindor Common Room drinking hot chocolate and playing exploding snap with his mates.

If he could keep dreaming, everything would go back to the way it was, the way it was supposed to be.


End file.
